Merry Murders 1: The Keys to Murder

1

An Unexpected Visitor

Merry Frauss’s Sunday was going to be hectic. Although she had intended to take her first day off in over a month, it was clear from numerous voice mails and frantic texts that she was due for another day at the Del Sol Library.

She allowed herself the indulgence of a sigh as she gathered her purse and looked longingly at the pile of books she had planned to read. But a glare from one of the cats lying in the sun reminded her that there were worse things than spending Sunday in a library. Even if you had to work while you were there.

She jangled her keys at Fritzie, hoping to inspire some action, but the cat only yawned and flipped over.

Merry shrugged. I can’t blame you, Fritzie. After all, Sundays are for napping.

The calico stretched its legs and exposed more of its belly in agreement.

Merry went to the window to see her husband in the backyard. Harry Frauss was a retired forensic investigator, but with how much time he spent in the backyard tending to their plants and bird visitors, one would think he had been a horticulturist or worked at the arboretum.

He looked up and waved at her, taking a break from scowling at the climbing vines that he was struggling to irrigate. The vines pushed down the rocks that were supposed to keep them in place, and thus kicked away their sprinkler like a toddler smacking its food off its high chair. Harry was persistent, if not exactly patient, and Merry smiled as he went back to swearing at the plants.

She said to Fritzie, I know they say you’re supposed to talk to your plants, but I don’t think you’re supposed to scold them.

Fritzie was asleep. Merry realized she was stalling. Her house, with its large, clean, quiet rooms and colorful desert murals on the walls, was her sanctuary. She was reluctant to leave its calm consistency for the chaos of the library.

Then the doorbell rang. She could have laughed or sighed. Looks like she wouldn’t be the one deciding when she left her calm sanctuary after all! A visitor was making that choice for her.

She checked through the peephole, always cautious, but then gasped and hurriedly unlocked and swung open the door.

On her swept porch, which had a wrought iron bench and a basket of sunflowers, was a little girl with messy red hair, round glasses that almost swallowed her face, and a serious expression. The little girl clutched copies of Junie B. Jones and Egyptology in the way most children would clutch a favorite teddy bear.

Hello, Nana, the little girl said in a high-pitched but no-nonsense, stern tone, I missed you.

There was clearly an accusation in that I missed you, but Merry didn’t care. She reached down and hugged the little girl tightly, a little shocked to see her on a random Sunday, but happy to see her nonetheless.

She hustled the little girl into the house, taking the books from Kylee’s reluctant, tiny fingers and setting them down, carefully and reverentially, next to Merry’s own pile of to-be-read paperbacks. Then, she took her granddaughter’s backpack and set it down by the front door before leading Kylee into the kitchen to grab a cold bottle of water. Even that little bit of time in the heat had reddened the girl’s pale, freckled cheeks.

All the while, the little girl did not stop talking. She shared facts about Egypt from her book, Did you know the Egyptians would bury people with their servants and their cats so they would go with them to the afterlife? Do you think I could do that with my dogs?, complained about the heat on the car ride over, Mom says she fixed the air conditioner but I don’t believe her, and talked excitedly about her next year at school, I’m going to be in the second grade, and that means I’ll really have to buckle down.

The little girl’s monologue flew by in a blur. Merry barely had time to ask herself Where did she learn the phrase ‘buckle down’? before another barrage of information landed.

Once the little girl had paused to drink her water, Merry said quickly, I am very, very happy to see you Kylee, but I didn’t know you would be visiting us today.

Kylee explained, Not just today. Mom said I can stay the entire summer if I’m good.

Merry coughed a bit. The entire summer? She said that? I, um, of course I would love that, Kylee, but did your mom mention asking me about any of this?

Kylee said, She said she told Papa.

Ah. Merry raised an eyebrow. She glanced into the backyard, where her husband was engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a hose. Well, sweetie, it appears your grandfather forgot to mention any of this to me.

Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise? Kylee joined her grandmother in staring out the window. The garden hose appeared to have the upper hand.

Merry nodded. That must be it. She turned to her granddaughter. And what a wonderful surprise it is!

Visions of games they could play and movies they could watch danced in Merry’s head. She always said the best thing about having children was grandchildren, and though it certainly wasn’t convenient to have one dropped in your lap unannounced, she wasn’t the kind to dwell on the negative. She would have to have a conversation about communication with Harry, of course, but that could come later.

However, all of her fantasies for a Grandma-Granddaughter Sunday were interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. She glanced at the caller ID.

She frowned, but then she had to search for her granddaughter. Kylee had already vacated the kitchen, gravitating toward the pile of books like a moth to flame. When Merry followed her to the living room, she saw Kylee was carefully reading the spines and the backs of her grandmother’s books.

Merry called out to her: Kylee, how would you like to spend the day at the library?

As her other option was doing yard work with her grandfather in 95-degree heat, the little girl happily agreed. I would love that! I was hoping we would go. I wanted to get a book on dinosaurs. A girl at school says she doesn’t believe in them, and I think she’s crazy, so I want to show her all the proof.

As Merry helped the little girl into the backseat of the car, where she no longer needed a car seat (something Merry still hadn’t gotten used to), Kylee kept up her stream of consciousness reporting on all the details of her little life. Merry listened happily as she texted her husband, We have a little birdie visiting us that no one told me about!

As she pulled out of the driveway and navigated through their quiet neighborhood (no one was insane enough to be out in this blistering heat, except Harry, of course), Merry realized that though her day had just gotten even more complicated, it had also gotten a lot more fun. And that was rather the point, wasn’t it?

2

No Yelling in the Library

The barrage of complaints and questions began as soon as she stepped through the door. For a moment, she was overwhelmed, until a solid wall of teutonic matronhood stepped between her and the general crowd.

Eleanor Gruslhelm, Merry’s assistant head librarian, was a short, stout woman in her mid-seventies. She was the kind of woman who people remember as being very tall, despite that not being the case at all.

Eleanor hushed the rising voices vying for Merry’s attention by saying loudly, "Have you miscreants forgotten you are in a library?"

Then she bustled the group into an orderly line at the main desk, telling them, In the war, my mother told me, they waited six hours for a loaf of bread, and if all they got was a crust, they were happy about it. You all have to wait for five minutes, you’re ready to call in the army.

Eleanor’s slight German accent made no one ask exactly which war, and in what country, she was referring to. But the patrons, all older people themselves, grumbled quieter at the mention of wartime hardship.

Merry asked Eleanor, Can you handle any of these requests while I get my granddaughter settled in?

Merry was holding Kylee’s hand, although Kylee was clearly twitching to run off and get lost among the stacks.

Eleanor said with a shrug, They all insist they have to talk to you. I already dealt with the ones who would deign to speak with me. She looked down at the child and narrowed her eyes. This is your granddaughter?

Kylee said, Yes, I am.

Eleanor examined the girl for a moment and then said, Red hair is bad luck, you know.

Kylee nodded. I’ve been told that before, but I don’t let that stop me.

Eleanor smiled. It was not often that she did so. Ah. You’re a lot like your grandmother then. Let’s see if you’re as good at organizing as she is. I have books to restock, will you help?

The little girl’s eyes widened as if she’d been asked to enter a holy shrine. Absolutely! I even know how the Dewey decimal system works already.

With a silent thank you to Eleanor, Merry handed over the little girl to the older woman, and went to face the many questions awaiting her at the front desk.

Many people would have been daunted by the task, but Merry found it was one of her favorite parts of the job. Not the complaints, of course, but she was a research librarian at heart, and in these lines there were usually one or two people looking for that perfect book, that long-lost magazine, or the final fact that would unlock something for them. When she hunted these items down in the library’s collection or in the online catalogues, she loved the feeling of following the clues until the perfect key to the puzzle revealed itself.

Before she could attend to the patrons, one of her volunteers ran up to her.

The library was blessed (and cursed) to be part of a vibrant senior community. The people who lived in Del Sol were all at least fifty-five and, if they were part of a couple, at least one person must be retired. This meant a lot of people with active minds and a lot of free time on their hands.

No fewer than twelve residents of Del Sol volunteered part-time at the library, with new applications coming in steadily. The volunteers had heavy turnover, as people dropped out and came back as their other interests permitted (there was a mysterious volunteer drought every year during spring training at the baseball stadiums in Phoenix), but the woman in front of Merry now was a particularly dedicated member.

Laura Heeley was a nervous woman, and she was practically shaking as she grabbed Merry’s attention with a light tap on the arm. "Merry, dear, I have to ask you something about the library renovations.